


Escaping Reality

by Keys_Studio



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Depression, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Inspired by Music, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:03:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keys_Studio/pseuds/Keys_Studio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Writing is only his escape from reality. To sink into a world of his own design is exactly what he did to forget all of his pain (or at least try), to try and channel everything that he was feeling through his characters, to try and... and... Well, make up a realm of possibility that simply did not exist in reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reality Sucks

**Author's Note:**

> The OCs at the start are deliberate and will play into the plot later on, so don't freak when you read names that aren't in the actual canon thing, okay?

_Beauregard struggled against his restraints, cursing as he continued to agitate the open wounds around his wrists, feeling the warmth of fresh, scarlet blood trailing down a long path along the chilled flesh of his bony forearms. Chilled to the bone in the damp, dark cell he was trapped in, the man writhed, barking as loud as he was able, demanding for his immediate release. However, his demands were met with nothing but bitter silence. For hours, that was all his resistance had earned him, all of his shouting and screaming... Until an all too familiar guard opened the door, that is._

_There was nobody who hated that guard more than Beauregard did. With a cocky aura and an arrogant attitude, Blaike was nothing more than a sadistic bastard who lived only to cause every prisoner he was charged with pain. A cruel smirk adorned the guard's handsome face as the cell door was closed silently behind him._

_"Beau~re~gard~," Blaike drawled out, brushing some of his chocolate brown, messy hair out of his face. His fiery emerald orbs were filled with amusement. "I've heard that you've been rather agitating for the other prisoners and the guards stationed down here..." He sauntered over with a confidence that made the blond haired prisoner sick, bile rising up in the back of his throat at the sight. Blaike's fingers found Beauregard's chin and gingerly tilted it up for their eyes to meet. Scarlet eyes burning with anger was all that met the amused, emerald eyes of the guard. His ginger touch was nothing more than a tease... and the prisoner knew that better than anyone else trapped in the dungeon. "I think I will have to discipline you so you won't be encouraged to try it again..."_

Misaki beamed with some pride as he lifted his pen from the paper. He had been writing for a few days to vent out his inner turmoil, and the way he executed it, he thought, was more than superb. At least that was how he felt about it. He had been feeling a bit... well, trapped lately, feeling weak and not in control of his own life, much like how Beauregard was trapped in a dungeon for a crime he never committed. As for who Blaike was...

Well, that was his dirty little secret that he had no intention on telling. Most anyone could more than likely tell just who it was that he based the guard off of, but he was more than willing to deny it. After all, he could just say that while the mannerisms belonged to one person, Blaike was the world around him.

A Senior in high school, Yata Misaki was a somewhat popular boy among his peers. However, it was more due to his association with his now-graduated friends Suoh Mikoto and Kusanagi Izumo, the previous year. Everyone thought of him and a few other choice people to be amazing for simply hanging out with the two (especially thanks to another now-graduated friend named Totsuka Tatara - may the gods have mercy on his innocent soul), but there were some who thought of them as nothing more than nuisances who were nothing but cocky little brats about their association with the graduates.

However, there was one Senior who refused to even accept that he had been associated with them at all. Simply put, anyone who bore any liking to the graduates irritated the one Senior. Only Misaki was able to talk to him, and even then, the male was an arrogant prick.

Fushimi Saruhiko.

The name of Misaki's personal bane caused a scowl to cross his gentle features. Saruhiko had once been Misaki's best friend, but the moment Mikoto came into the picture, the bespectacled male became distant and cold, diving headlong into his studies and surpassing the brunette in every way. He had even had a girlfriend for a while, and Misaki knew the male wasn't a virgin because the one day he had gone over to talk to him about needing a tutor in Chemistry, he had walked in on the two of them having sex. The only one that had noticed Misaki's horrified expression had been Saruhiko. And boy, did the taller male use it to his every advantage. It wasn't a widely known secret that the brunette was still a virgin, but he would be damned if Saruhiko didn't know it. Any and all mentions of sex made the male blush, especially if a girl was involved.

Misaki became a rambling, shy fool around girls, and may the gods forbid that Saruhiko didn't tease him over it whenever he caught sight of it.

A knock on the door forced the brunette out of his thoughts. Paling, he opened his desk drawer hastily and hit his papers and pen inside under the false bottom. Swallowing, he stood after closing the drawer and went to his door. Opening it slightly, he found himself face-to-face with his mother's latest boyfriend. Any color that had been left in his face drained from it at the sight of the man. Kurosawa Taichi was his mother's latest fixation, and in front of her and in public, he was the perfect boyfriend and man, but when neither of those factors were in effect, he was horrid. Thankfully, Misaki's siblings were spared his torture, but none of his family believed him when he said the man was horrible.

Without even so much as a greeting or asking to be let in, Taichi forced his way into the male's room, closing the door behind him. Every step he took towards the teenager, Misaki took two steps back, all of the way until his back was pressed against his bedroom wall. "I heard that you were telling all about me," Taichi whispered in an angry tone, grabbing the boy's throat. Misaki tried hard not to whimper, but it was hard when the man was choking him, purposefully digging his thumbs into his windpipe. "That friend of yours, the black haired boy? I overheard him talking about you and how you were abused..."

"I-I didn't tell anyone," Misaki managed to rasp out, clawing at the male's arms. If he left any marks, though, there would be Hell to pay and he knew it. He tried hard not to leave any marks, but he was growing more and more desperate by the moment as his brain started to recognize his lack of oxygen. "I-I even p-p-put on makeup... o-over the marks...!"

Taichi scowled and increased the pressure before tossing Misaki roughly to the floor. He placed his foot roughly against the male's chest, threatening to crush his lungs. "Don't lie to me, you sniveling little snot," he growled. He removed his foot and just as Misaki took in a gasp of breath, he delivered a sharp blow to his side. "If I ever catch wind of you telling anyone about me again, I promise you that I will make your life Hell." With another kick to Misaki's side, which was responded with by a sharp gasp and a sharp crack that sounded like a busted rib, he smirked. "Now, one of your friends is here to see you. "Lay on your bed and claim either a nap or you're sick. Make sure they can't see your neck, got it?"

Misaki shook, fighting back the tears that betrayed his pain. He nodded, unable to use his voice without whimpering. His father left him alone, leaving the brunette to his own devices. Slowly, shakily, the male made it onto his bed and covered himself with his blanket just as the door opened. Misaki maneuvered the blanket to hide his eyes from sight. The door closed silently. There was nothing but silence in the room.

Then, whoever it was started to walk slowly but surely towards the brunette's bed. Soon, there was a dip in the bed beside Misaki. A hand gently laid itself on his shoulder. The hand slowly moved to his throat and Misaki held back the urge to tense up. Two fingers pressed themselves against his jugular, chilling the spot they touched. "He hurt you again..." whispered a male's voice. His hand returned to his shoulder and squeezed it in a concerned way. "I could kill him for this..." Misaki peered out from under the blanket and was shocked by who he saw.

It was Fushimi Saruhiko.

The last person he would have ever guessed...

"S-Saruhiko?" Misaki whispered before he could stop himself. He saw Saruhiko tense up before looking away, his cheeks burning. Before he could stop himself, the brunette started to sit up. He then yelped sharply at the feeling of his busted rib, falling back on his bed. He whimpered in pain and curled into himself roughly.

"What did he do to you?" Saruhiko demanded to know, rubbing his arm to try and ease Misaki's pain.

"N-nothing," Misaki told him. He couldn't afford for his father to learn that he blabbed.

"Don't lie to me."

"H-he didn't do anything... I fell skateboarding..."

There was a silence before Saruhiko sighed and tsked. "You're a horrible liar, Mi~sa~ki," the male stated in a matter-of-fact tone. There was some shuffling before something was set down. Then, silence consumed the room as Saruhiko made his way to the door. The door opened and closed, leaving Misaki alone.

Peeling his blanket off of himself, Misaki looked around to see what Saruhiko had left.

It was a note on his night stand.

He picked it up and unfolded it, reading what was inside.

' _We need to have a talk, Mi~sa~ki. It's important._ '

Eye twitching, Misaki grumbled up the paper. Leave it to Saruhiko to still be an agitating asshole, even when he was being serious!

Before long, his mother came bounding up to his room, having learned from Saruhiko that the male's rib was busted from 'a skateboarding accident'. She wanted to take him to a hospital but Taichi managed to convince her that it was more likely to be bruised and that all the teenager needed was bed rest. As they left his room, Taichi spared a second to smirk at the boy before following the boy's mother out. Misaki bit his lip some as he tried to roll over because his rib hurt horribly, then he opened the crumpled note again. He had read it wrong, he noticed. There was no '~' between the syllables in his name.

He had just read it that way out of habit (since Saruhiko did it so much).


	2. Physical Pain Fades

_Blaike smirked at the defiant look that burned in Beauregard's scarlet eyes. The only thing that could make that defiance burn any brighter than normal was his very presence, and it sent delightful shivers throughout his lithe, tall body. Nipping some at the prisoner's chin, which had two days worth of growth that scratched against his moonlight pale flesh. Licking his lips with delight, he began to smirk even more so. "Ah, but before I can even dare punish you, I need to get you cleaned up... After all, we don't want your wounds getting infected and possibly risk killing you before your trial," he mused, having to resist the urge to quiver with anticipated pleasure._

_"Piss off," growled Beauregard, tearing his chin away from the guard. He refused to allow the man in front of him bathe him, not again. He was the only one to ever do it, and it was nothing if not horrendously painful. The last time Blaike had bathed him, he had been dipped in freezing cold water and scrubbed to the point that he was sore and red. He had been beyond cleaned and groomed properly before being beaten, bandaged to keep the wounds from getting infected, and tossed back into his cell._

_"Sorry, but that isn't a part of my job description," mused Blaike before blindfolding the prisoner and uncuffing him from the wall. He then cuffed his hands once more with portable handcuffs, making sure that the cuffs around his ankles that soon followed were heavy enough to keep Beauregard from running off. He then dragged him out of the cell and through the dungeon, reveling in the tormented howls and moans that engulfed them. He then dragged him upstairs, making sure that the prisoner felt every slow, weighted down step. Stripping Beauregard from his rags and bloodied bandages, he made sure to marvel at the filthy body in front of him. It was rather hard not to when the body in front of him looked beyond handsome._

_Shorter than Blaike, Beauregard was slightly muscled with not the tiniest inkling of fat adorning any part of his flesh. Well endowed for a man of his status in society and short stature, the length of the prisoner never seized to arouse the guard. Broad shoulders held up a rather smart head, adorned with filthy blond hair that looked positively amazing when cleaned and a nearly visible beard._

_The beard had to go and the filth needed to be scrubbed away, but otherwise, Beauregard was one handsome man._

_Licking his lips, Blaike drew a scolding hot bath, deciding that super sensitive skin would help with the twenty lashings that the prisoner was to receive across his back. All the more pain, after all. He had even been given permission to wake the prisoner should he fall asleep any time during his lashings and start over again._

The sound of Misaki's cell phone caused the teenager to jump in alarm. Snatching his phone, he answered without looking at the number. "Hello?" he questioned, shifting quietly as he hid his writing away. He had spent the better part of an hour writing it, and it didn't need to be discovered, not by anyone. He knew that the moment Taichi heard him talking on the phone, he would barge in, demanding to know who the teenager was talking to and what that person wanted, so he had to hide his writing away.

"Arcade, six o'clock. Don't be late," came a distorted voice on the other end of the line before it cut off.

Baffled, Misaki pulled his phone away from his ear. That had to be the most cryptic thing that he had ever heard... But...

Swallowing, the teenager stood shakily. His busted rib had been tended to when he sneaked off to the local clinic the night before, but it still hurt. He had an ice pack on it under his shirt, which his mother questioned, but he gave her the same answer to her unspoken question that he had given Saruhiko. It was from 'a skateboarding accident.'

Misaki knew he couldn't walk to the arcade, but he also knew better than to ask for a ride. Thankfully, a bus station was not too far from his home and he had enough money to get on, play some games at the arcade, and return the same way he came. Seemed easy enough. Hopefully his mother, brother and sister, and Taichi didn't catch him or worse, question where he was going with a 'bruised' rib... Checking the time on his phone, Misaki realized that he had an hour before he had to be at the arcade, but anything to get out of the house... Right?

The teenager recognized his movements as sluggish and filled with the slightest limp from where he didn't want to add weight to the side with the busted rib, but he still managed to be silent as he walked out of his room and down the stairs to the first floor of his house. Thankfully, there was such a thing as small blessings because Misaki managed to sneak out undetected. Limping his way to the bus station and cradling the ice pack to his busted rib, the brunette worried at his lip with every sharp jostle of pain that came with walking and being upright in general. Soon enough, though, he was at the station and just in time too, for the bus had just pulled in and was waiting for pass angers to board. Misaki slid inside, paid the small fee, and sat down up front, sighing with absolute relief that there wasn't anymore pressure on his hurt side.

However, his relief was short lived, for his stop came up all too soon for his liking. Buzzing that the arcade was his stop, the bus pulled to a stop and dropped him off. Misaki limped into the arcade, grateful that he was able to lean against something sturdy like one of the machines or the wall. Leaning against an old Pac-Man machine, the brunette threw in two quarters and started to play the game. It was a decent distraction and it would help pass the time.

Before Misaki realized it, it had been six o'clock. Having played a total of three Pac-Man games along with two games of a fighting side scroll type game, he was more absorbed in playing the games of the arcade rather than waiting for his mysterious hookup. So, when someone blew warm air into his ear teasingly, the brunette jumped and cursed loudly, both at whoever did that and at the pain that rippled through his side. "What the fuck-?!"

Saruhiko's familiar tsking filled his ears as he was steadied on his uninjured side. "I honestly didn't think you would show," Saruhiko mused. His comment earned him an aggravated scowl.

"Why did you want me to show up here?" Misaki questioned, holding his pretty much melted ice pack against his sore ribs.

"I figured that you would be more honest with me if we managed to talk alone," Saruhiko said in a way that made it seem obvious. Of course, that tone only served to make the brunette more peeved off.

"What the Hell are you talking about?"

"Your side. You're in pain."

"I told you, I got a bruised rib from skateboarding."

"And I told you, you're a horrible liar."

Misaki moved to step past the noirette. "I'm done here." Of course, that seemingly final word was met with his feet suddenly off of the ground and his back pressed against the wall. Blinking in confusion, the male struggled only to whimper some at the pain his side gave him.

"What did he do to you?" Saruhiko whispered into his ear, lowering him gingerly onto his feet. "You can tell me..."

"I don't have to tell you shit," scowled the brunette. However, he didn't move from his spot. He couldn't. He knew that he wouldn't be allowed to leave until he either blabbed about Taichi's abuse or the noirette got fed up with the lies and left him alone.

Those blue eyes met his own hazel ones and the concern for him that burned in them scorched Misaki. How could such an arrogant prick...

Wait.

"Why the fuck do you care, anyways?" Misaki scowled. "You haven't cared about me since before Junior year...!"

"Is it really a shock that I care about your well being?" growled out Saruhiko, the concern in his eyes changing to that of familiarity for Misaki.

Anger and uncaring.

"Given how you don't care for anything but your studies now, yes," Misaki stated. There was a silence between them for a moment.

Saruhiko pulled away from the male, sneering. "Forget it. I have better things to do than care for someone who won't even tell me the truth," he spat, hostile venom dripping from every syllable. "I'll see you in class, Misaki."

There was no drawl there this time. His name had been spat out like it was the embodiment of rot.

So be it.

"Whatever."


End file.
